


Prophecy

by koolio19



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel
Genre: Angst, Episode: s05e08 The Last Day, F/M, Philinda - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 23:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14507907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koolio19/pseuds/koolio19
Summary: Robin told May more than just how to get back before she died, and it is weighing heavily on her. Post 5x8 "The Last Day" one shot. Philinda of course, and 100% angst.





	Prophecy

Everyone else was asleep and the Zephyr was quiet, but as I round the corner, I can see her silhouette behind the closed curtain of the cockpit in the glow of a small lantern. I walk up the steps and carefully pull the curtain aside. She is sitting on a crate in the center of the cockpit, her back to me and looking out of the uncovered windows at the stars. Surprisingly, she’s oblivious to my presence, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. The distant look in her eyes giving away the troubled track her mind has taken as she stares unseeing into the night sky. 

I rap my knuckles gently on the bulkhead to announce my presence, not wanting to approach her without warning. In my experience, that is a good way to end up with a punch to the gut before you could even say ‘hello’. However, I cringe with regret when I see the muscles in her neck and shoulders flinch anyway as she is startled out of her thoughts. Her head turns towards me only slightly in acknowledgment as her eyes drop to the floor, but she says nothing and she makes no word of resistance as I move into the cockpit and pull the curtain closed behind me. 

“How’s it goin’?” I ask as I sit down beside her. She doesn’t even look up. I study her a little more closely, and with alarm, notice that her hands tremble as they lay in her lap. “May?” I question, concern in my voice. She still doesn’t respond, almost seeming to pretend that I’m not here. “Melinda?” I ask even softer this time, as I reach over and place my hand over the top of hers in her lap. “What’s wrong?”

She finally gives me a reaction, but it only serves to worsen my worry as her jaw clenches tight and she softly shakes her head, her eyes still on the ground. I squeeze her hands trying to reassure her and wait knowing that she isn’t going to talk until she’s ready. 

It’s minutes before she closes her eyes with an exhausted sigh and finally starts to speak. 

“What Robin told me before she died… most of it I already told you earlier.” I nod quietly. “But there’s more…” she opens her mouth to continue, then closes it shaking her head and pursing her lips together. It is another moment before she speaks again. “More that I don’t think I should tell you.”

My heart aches as she takes in a shuttering breath and then releases it slowly. Whatever it was Robin had said, it is causing her a great amount of distress. 

“Why don’t you tell me, and then we can decide together whether or not we should tell the rest of the team?” I press her cautiously.

She shakes her head but otherwise doesn’t respond. Her behavior is causing apprehension to build in my chest. I haven’t seen her this closed off since Bahrain, but that was a long time ago. She’s been so open and expressive these last few months, even years if I think about it. My memory flashes back to the image of her cradling the dead inhuman girl in her arms that day and the eerily similar image of her cradling Robin’s dying body in her arms earlier today. The amount of loss we have lived through isn’t fair. She deserves so much better. 

I squeeze her hands again and lean my shoulder against hers lightly, “This doesn’t have to be all on you, Melinda. Let me share the burden.”

I am taken aback when I see her eyes glisten in the light as she shakes her head with more conviction this time. “I can’t,” she whispers. 

Slowly, I stand and come around to face her, kneeling on the ground in front of her. My hands coming up to cradle both of her smaller ones in mine, my thumbs rubbing circles on her skin. Her eyes falling to our joined hands instead of looking at me. 

“Why not?” I ask her, unwilling to relent. 

I watch as she struggles with herself, unsure of what to say; how to convince me to let it go without saying too much. 

Finally, for the first time she looks up and meets my eyes. “It’s not fair to you,” she says. 

I press her for more, “Why wouldn’t it fair to me? We’re in this together, like always.” She doesn’t respond, but she keeps my gaze. Her expression is one that I suddenly recognize, one that grips my heart with an icy hand and sends my mind racing. It’s the same haunted expression she wore as she tried to explain to me how she felt after I had died. 

I lean towards her. “May,” I proceed cautiously, “Was the prophecy about me?” The flash in her eyes was enough of a confirmation that she didn’t need to speak it. 

She’s right, I probably don’t want to know, but I have to ask anyway. My next words come out as a whisper, “Do… do I die?” 

Upon hearing the words, tears spring to her eyes, but she doesn’t break eye contact, she doesn’t turn away from me. She is trying to be strong for me, for both of us. 

When I pull her down onto the floor and into my arms, I’m not sure if I am doing so to comfort her or myself, but she doesn’t resist and a small sob escapes her as her face buries itself in my neck. As she cries softly, I feel numb except for the grief of the woman in my arms. Her tears and breath are warm against my skin making me shiver, and I feel the way her fingers dig desperately into my shoulders. I am doing the same, however, my hands finding home in her hair and holding tight to her waist, trying to keep a grip on the reality of the situation. 

After a few short moments, she has regained her composure, and she pulls back, her hands falling away from my shoulders and sliding down to grip my upper arms; my hands now resting at her waist. She looks at me with a firm gaze, the remnants of her tears obvious only in the fresh, pink hue of her face. “I won’t let it happen. Now that I know, I can stop it,” she says with conviction.

I sigh and move my hands up to mirror hers and grip her arms firmly. “I know you will try,” I reply softly, a sad smile on my lips. Her expression changes to a hard confusion then, but I continue, “But if you can’t, it’s not your fault, Melinda. I want you to know it’s not your fault.”

As I knew she would, she ignores me. “I will protect you, Phil. I swear it.” I shake my head softly, but she continues, “Robin said that you are needed to bring all the pieces together.” Her words are getting faster, more desperate as she tries to rationalize how she can alter time and save me. “Maybe that’s why we failed originally because you died. You weren’t there to help us save the world, so all I have to do is keep you safe, and everything will be right.”

She is slightly breathless trying to convince herself of the possibility as much as me. She reaches out and places a hand against my chest. “Everything will be alright,” she nods reassuringly. “I promise I won’t let you die.”

“I know,” I see the relief in her eyes as I say this. “There isn’t anyone else I would want to have my back. You know I trust you with my life, but-” her expression falters, and she pulls her hands away slowly. “But somethings can’t be changed… Maybe it’s my death that brings everything together. I’ve already been given a second chance. If I don’t get a third, I’ll be okay with that.” She looks at me in disbelief. It’s not what she wants to hear, but it’s what she needs to hear. I squeeze her arms gently and lean forward to make sure she is listening to what I say next. “Please, hear me,” I say firmly. “Please, don’t blame yourself if this can’t be changed. It’s not your fault, Melinda.” 

She stares at me for a moment, hurt displayed openly on her face. She then pulls from my grip and turns away from me, bracing a hand on the crate behind her in order to stand. A groan of pain catches in her throat as she hoists herself up. I am quick to follow her and reach out a hand to steady her as she staggers slightly on her injured leg. 

She tries to walk past me and out of the room, but I don’t release the hand I have on her arm, stopping her. She turns back to me with a glare on her face. 

“Please,” I plead with her, desperation in my voice. 

She shakes her head. “I can’t accept that,” anger is leaching into her voice.

I try again. “Please, May… You know I love you.” She stops pulling against me and her eyes widen in shock, her face softening considerably. It has slipped out so easily, but I can’t take the time to regret it and I continue as if this wasn’t the first time I’ve said it out loud. “You know that I would do anything to stay here with you. I’m not asking you to give up. I would never ask you to do that. I’m just asking you to continue to go on and live if I have to leave you.”

She just stares at me, the glare gone replaced by a breathless shock. I release her arm and wait patiently as she considers how to proceed. Surprisingly though, I am not nervous of her rejection; my heart seems confident in its revelation, either momentarily unafraid of the consequences or assured of the mutual affection. I can’t be sure which. Perhaps I am still slightly numb to it.

Finally, she takes a small step towards me as she turns to face me straight on. “I can’t promise you anything,” she pauses and shakes her head. “I can’t think about losing you before it happens. I have to have faith that I will save you, otherwise I will be lost.” Unshed tears are once again glistening in her eyes. 

She takes another step forward and reaches up a shaky hand to caress my face. My heart spikes under the contact, and I’m sure she can feel my wildly thumping heartbeat under her fingers on my neck. She smiles a soft, sad smile up at me before speaking in barely a whisper, “I love you too. You are my life.”

I’m not sure who moved first, but before another breath was taken, her lips are on mine They are soft and sweet and slightly hesitant, but coursing with an electricity that leaves me almost light-headed. As we pull apart, only by inches, we are both breathless and my fingers are lost in her hair as I cradle her face delicately between my hands. Her cheeks are wet again with silent tears, but there is a bittersweet happiness in her deep brown eyes that I could get lost in. I wipe my thumbs softly over her cheeks and lean my forehead against hers. “No more regrets,” I whisper against her skin.

I can feel her shake her head, “No more wasted time.” 

It was her this time that pulled me back down to her lips, a new and overwhelming passion consuming us as the heat rose higher, and the hands gripped tighter, and the love grew stronger.

Later that night, as May slept with her body tucked against mine, her head resting over my heart, and my arm around her, I couldn’t help but think about Robin’s prophecy. This time though the numbness was gone replaced by a strange kind of peace. All life ends. Perhaps I will die in order to save the world, or perhaps I will need to be alive to see it through. Either way, I know May will fight until the very end. That is how she functions, but at least she won’t do so without knowing how much she means to me. Whatever the outcome, I won’t go without knowing the love of this amazing woman. I can only hope that brings her a similar kind of peace in the end.


End file.
